I told you then—you recollect, I told
The very truth—that humour would not hold;
Not that I thought, or ever could suppose, }
The mighty raptures were so soon to close— }
Poetic flights of love all sunk in sullen prose. }
Do you remember how you used to hang 130
Upon my looks? your transports when I sang?
I play’d—you melted into tears; I moved— }
Voice, words, and motion, how you all approved; }
A time when Emma reign’d, a time when Henry loved. }